Everything Is Blue
by IAmThePoisonedYouth
Summary: Finally, the Doctor grieves Rose. Set between 'The Runaway Bride' and 'Smith and Jones'. Title from the song 'Colors' by Halsey.


Shaking hands traced across dodgy controls on the TARDIS console as thoughts flooded the pilot's mind.

Everything was wrong. He had lost the one thing he had left, the one thing that kept him going, and it hurt.

Losing her was painful beyond words, like a heavy blow to the chest, like every death he had ever had finally caught up with him.

Despite it being awful to think, he knew he would've been able to handle it if she simply would've died. He had gotten over it before, it was hardly anything new to his life. Yes, it hurt, but they would leave the horrors of the universe behind for a greater quest.

Although she was still alive, she was hidden and kept away from him, unable to be stolen back, just out of reach for the Time Lord to pull the beautiful blonde back into his arms. So much, he wished he would've said, so much.

He swallowed back the bitter burn of tears and the urge to throw up. He wasn't even human, he couldn't even get sick, but he knew it was not anything physical that was ailing him.

He was tired. Tired and weary of the stupid, godforsaken universe, tired of having to be the one to save it, but never to reap any award, to have anything to himself.

Everything was dead around him, he brought death. There was so much blood on his hands and he couldn't ever scrub it out.

Every day he would remember a new face, another friend or family member he had gotten killed. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts screamed at him 'murderer' and 'coward', that he was a monster.

For a while, his beautiful, incredible, fantastic companion had kept him sane, the caringness of her voice soothed him when he felt like spiralling apart, her skin like petals, gentle and breakable. He had tasted her lips twice, once when he saved her from dying when she absorbed the time vortex for him, the other time when a living flap of skin had taken her mind.

The worst thing was that he never got to tell her just how much he cared about her, how much he…

He daren't thinked about the word burning in his mind, the four lettered term of endearment too painful to bear. It was also a dreadful understatement when it came to her because she was so much more than some pathetic almost-girlfriend.

She had been his tether, his best friend, the person who pulled him back when he was reaching near-genocidal madness. She had made him smile in a way he hardly ever could anymore.

He shuddered when he felt a tear roll down his cheek, thinking over his actions that day. He had done it again. On Christmas Eve, he had committed genocide, and truthfully, he wanted to go with the Racnoss, he wanted to drown.

Thankfully, Donna Noble, the mouthy ex-bride-to-be, had other ideas, and had brought out some kind of other emotions besides the crushing numbness spilling out of both of his hearts.

The dam of apathy was starting to completely shatter now, and the Time Lord sunk down onto the chair around the console, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The TARDIS groaned in disapproval, like she could sense the cacophony of emotions raging through her beloved pilot.

He suddenly burst out, shouting, "Stupid!" hitting himself on the head, "You call yourself a Doctor? You're nothing! You're worthless! Rose is gone because of you, you stupid, arrogant bastard!" he got to his feet and punched the dashboard, feeling pain instantly ebb from his knuckles.

He drew his hand up to his chest, wincing, tears beginning to flood from his eyes as everything crashed. His other hand cupped his mouth to stop the hysterical sob that escaped it, and it felt like both his hearts had simply stopped working.

It felt like she died, and he didn't know how to change it, how to stop it from hurting. He needed to stop, he had to stop, he couldn't…

Trembling, the Doctor walked over and picked up Rose's jacket, tears sliding down his cheeks as the growing pit in his stomach overwhelmed him and he sobbed into the lining, his legs barely supporting him.

It would've been easier if the coat still smelled like her, but after the few weeks, the scent was gone, and the feeling of dread consumed him, the urge to puke returning with a vengeance.

The Doctor hated crying, he was supposed to fix things, not just sit around sobbing like a damn human, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't see the woman he adored ever again, and that hurt.

What hurt more, though, was the thought that with an infinite life span, he might even grow to forget her, to forget Rose Tyler, the shop girl who had stolen his heart. The memories of his first and last words to her was a knife to each heart of his, and he let his form crash back onto the seats, a shaky sob escaping him.

From 'Run' to 'Rose Tyler, I…', The Doctor could remember almost every adventure they had, albeit the memories meshed together in a continuous pandemonious cocktail of agony, and once again, the TARDIS groaned, this time in a rhythm, as if she was trying to sing her Doctor to sleep.

It didn't work. He couldn't let himself fall asleep, it was simply asking for trouble, asking for more pain. But he might've risked that just to see her face again.

He wanted to touch her, to hug her, to tell her how he felt, to kiss her, but he couldn't. And as the Doctor sobbed and grieved the loss of his lovely Rose Tyler, the rest of the universe moved on, unknowing and uncaring of his inner turmoil and simply because they had to.


End file.
